


Sometimes in the Rain

by kayura_sanada



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Make It Happy, No Specific Fandom - Freeform, fluff for the sake of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 05:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8275178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: Steve and Tony go searching for a mutant in the rain.





	

It was very dark out, with all the lights sucked up by the rogue mutant sucking up all the tungsten in every light bulb in a five mile radius. Which would have been bad enough, with the pollutants in the city air keeping all but the most obstinate stars hidden. But with the rain, everything was pretty much swallowed by the darkness.

Everyone had split up into teams of two, though Tony Stark was likely the most useless at the moment. Not all of his suit needed tungsten. Just most of it. The joints, specifically ones that would be bent and re-bent on a constant basic, such as at the knee or elbow, used its high-density alloy. The base of the suit’s spine held a large amount of tungsten alloy to deal with the shifting weight on a moving body. The areas around the repulsors were made almost entirely of tungsten, as it had the highest melting point of any metal. His armor-piercing rounds, shoulder missiles, supersonic armaments – all of them relied on tungsten. His own suit’s lights relied on the usual tungsten alloy and crystallized tungsten to create luminescence.

It had been through the tungsten in his suit that the little teenage whelp had managed to coat nearly his entire body in the element, thus granting him the body necessary to punch Clint Barton through a first-floor window. Thankfully, there’s only been so much metallic tungsten available, and he’d made up for it by telling Steve how to throw his shield to get the tungsten carbide to break like glass. It had left only tungsten on the teenager’s hands, face, and feet. The boy had turned and fled after that, popping the lightbulbs on every street around them as he did.

It wasn’t like they couldn’t find the kid. Normally. If their systems were working. Which they weren’t. Because _tungsten_.

“You know,” Tony said, “we really do underestimate how much we rely on something as simple as a single element. Like oxygen. No one gives it the time of day. Or carbon. Did you know some people don’t even know they’re made up of that? They don’t even know their life boils down to the existence of that one all-important chemical. They don’t know our bodies have a commonality with diamonds.” That probably meant something, or could be made to mean something, if someone were in the mood for poetry. But outside of his half-useless suit and walking along the edge of a sidewalk in nothing but his undersuit, he couldn’t be paid real, actual money to bother with such a thing.

Steve shook his head. Little droplets of rain splattered everywhere as his blond hair whipped in wet ropes around his head. Tony caught some in the eye. “I didn’t know we had something in common with diamonds.”

Tony sighed.

He and Steve had been sent together, Carol and an ego-battered Clint had taken another direction, Logan and Vision another. He could only imagine the goading Vision was ignoring at the moment. He figured he’d gotten pretty lucky. Then again, people usually put him with Steve on purpose, knowing they’d just spend their time worrying about each other instead of getting anything done. Especially since Tony was down to his undersuit and his wits. Not to be underestimated, of course, but still. Fighting in nothing but a speedo was usually a last-ditch decision.

Steve looked at him. Tony was fairly certain he was impersonating a drowned rat. His hair was plastered to his forehead and neck, his beard dripped in a steady waterfall down its middle, and his undersuit, which already stuck to him like a second skin, was beyond uncomfortable now and, with the deluge of water, now chafed horribly. The water made the cool air downright cold, raising goosebumps beneath the suit, turning his nose and ears red and generally making a bad night just that little bit worse. And then, of course, was the issue of rain splashing onto his face, the downpour turning into one of those stupid old movie sets where someone’s just emptying water buckets onto people cartoon-style.

Steve, on the other hand, looked like some sort of Olympic god. Though, to be fair, Tony was pretty certain that was just a permanent state for him. The bangs dripping water made him look like some professional swimmer coming up out of a pool. His uniform was thick with armor, so even though it clung to him like Tony’s suit, it didn’t show off much – save his butt and thighs, actually, which worked for Tony just fine. The man carried his shield, as usual, its paint job untouched by the water pinging off it in a light drumline. His skin glistened like silver.

Through all the rough patches in their lives, Steve had always managed to come out of them looking like Theseus, or perhaps Perseus, riding home in gallant victory. In this case, gallant, wet victory. At some point later that night.

“Are you all right?” Steve asked. It wasn’t the first time Tony had waved off that question in the past hour, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Especially since there was a new tone to it, one that wasn’t asking after his health after the suit malfunctioned or one that catered to his wounded pride.

Tony rolled his eyes. “The rain won’t kill me, Steve.”

“But it might make you sick.” His lips thinned. They actually looked like they thinned. Still a nice look on him, though.

Tony knew Steve’s childhood was basically one near-death experience to another, based on nothing more than his own body. He’d known that before he’d ever met the man, thanks to his father. He also knew that Steve was likely speaking from experience, and only wanted to make sure Tony didn’t end up in a state similar to Steve’s past. He knew that. Objectively. “We are walking around like a couple of losers in this neverending cloud-dump of a rainstorm. I think I can handle that, even without the suit.”

Steve sighed. He probably rolled his eyes. His shoulders definitely tensed. “Right.”

Even in their awkward little relationship, sometimes it felt like all they really did was fight. Maybe that was what their relationship was reduced to – moments in-between battles.

Their walk took them from the city streets to the edge of a short bridge. Tony peered as well as he could across the expanse, even lifting a hand to shield his gaze. But nothing. He couldn’t see too far in such a downpour. “Anything?” he asked.

Steve shook his head. “No.” Well, if Steve couldn’t see anything, there was little chance Tony would. So he started looking around, trying to see if there was a way to keep the kid from running across the bridge. It could make the cables of the bridge weak, if not completely unstable. The kid and anyone else unlucky enough to be on the thing t the time would be lost to the sea below.

“The kid seemed surprised to see the light bulbs pop,” Tony said, looking around. “I doubt he knows about the bridge.”

“He can mess up the bridge, too?” And Steve started looking around, himself.

“Yeah. Anything really heavy or solid, or something that needs to be both firm and able to withstand a lot of pressure and movement. Their used for ship’s hulls, too.”

“He seemed to be pulling without conscious thought,” Steve said. “If he comes this way…”

Tony tapped a foot. “It wouldn’t be good. But if you think he’s going to be relatively safe in other places, think again. Tungsten and tungsten carbide are used in lots of things. Even jewelry. Kid just has to run past a shop to make our night last a little bit longer.”

Steve looked at Tony again, his brows drawn low. Clearly, Steve did not think dragging this out any longer than necessary to be conducive to Tony’s continued good health. It should have made him aggravated. On some level, it probably did. But he also felt a bright burst of warmth at the fact that Steve worried about him. They were still only about a year or so past the last time they fought one another – like physical blows fought – and he was still getting used to the idea of Steve caring about him again.

Or maybe not _again_. Usually, their problem wasn’t that they didn’t care anymore. It was that they still cared. Too much.

“So how do we stop him?”

Tony raked a hand through his hair. The action just made flecks of water fly everywhere, and made the water on his arm start running upward. His elbows felt raw from the friction of the suit. The gel he used for it must have been left on the sidewalk behind them. “The kid’s running on pure fear right now. He doesn’t know we’re just trying to help him. Getting that message across might be all we need. Or maybe we can tire him out somehow, if that fails. I don’t know what else to try.”

“I think Jacques Barrett’s criminal history might have had something to do with it,” Steve said.

Tony scowled. He raised a hand, only to drop it when water bullets shot from his fingers and onto Steve’s cheek. He snorted and apologized. “That would be why we had Logan instead of one of the more touchy-feely recruiters. And why we all stood back and gave the kid some room, kept from fencing him in. And why we had Clint, of all people, be the one to get up close to shake the little shit’s hand!”

About a year ago, Tony’s anger toward a poor, defenseless asshole like Jacques Barrett would have infuriated Steven Rogers’ precious soul. Now, Steve just put a sopping wet hand on Tony’s sopping wet shoulder. When Tony focused on him, it was to find Steve giving him another one of those worried looks. “Clint’s fine. The glass gave him a few scrapes, nothing more. His ego was bruised, that’s all.”

Tony also knew that. Objectively. “I get he’s scared,” Tony said, allowing Barrett that one small victory. “And I get that he can’t control his powers yet.” But couldn’t Tony be allowed to be tired and frustrated and upset? It was _his_ suit that was destroyed. It was _his_ friend that had been thrown. It was _his_ body that felt like it would never be dry again, even if he vacationed in the Sahara.

It was _his_ city that was in danger from this one frightened, troubled teenager. And it was _he_ who had no way to stop or save the kid, save maybe a few bullshit words of false comfort.

He was basically just keeping Steve company at this point.

Steve held out his hand. For a moment, watching that hand raise the shield above his head, Tony found himself lying on the ground in his mind, faceplate torn, lips pulled in a grimace. For a short moment, he thought he saw the glint of sunlight off that metal.

Then Steve held it up, his elbow slightly bent to keep the shield above Tony’s head, and the pang of water off metal echoed louder than ever. The moment passed. And for the first time since Tony locked his suit down and stepped out of its wreckage, he didn’t have a waterfall of rain drenching his face. Tony sent Steve a bright smile. Without hesitation, the old soldier returned it.

Steve leaned down, his hand still steady on his shield above Tony, above both of them, now. “Let’s get that message sent out,” he said. Steve’s lips brushed over his. It was all he could do to nod some sort of agreement, and then Steve bridged that short gap with a kiss.

They found the kid twenty minutes later, still pulling on his favorite metal but not as harshly as before, when the boy walked up to them pretty as you please and mumbled something that Tony pretended could have been an apology. It was likely something else. A complaint, probably, or possibly something very rude. After all, Steve had yet to lower his arm.


End file.
